


Temptation

by WevyrDove



Category: Supernatural, destiel - Fandom
Genre: Anal Fingering, Barebacking, Blasphemy, Demon!Dean, M/M, Oral Sex, Priest!Cas, dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2016-02-02
Packaged: 2018-05-17 21:23:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5885677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WevyrDove/pseuds/WevyrDove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Father Novak is visited by a demon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Temptation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jennilah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jennilah/gifts).



> based on the gorgeous art I received as a destiel secret santa gift from Jennilah! check it out [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5643250)!

Castiel woke with a start, covered in sweat and tangled up in his sheets. He glanced at the bedside clock: 3:03 AM. He groaned and sat up. There was no way he would be able to fall asleep again, not after the dream. He was shaken; it had been so vivid – the rough voice in his ear, the feel of a hard body against his. But he couldn’t recall a face. Castiel shuddered, even as he realized he was still hard. He was ashamed and mortified that his body was responding this way. He ignored the temptation to touch himself and instead forced himself to get out of bed.

The glare of the bathroom light made him wince when he snapped it on. His hair was an unruly mess, his eyes haunted, dark circles underneath. He turned on the sink and washed his face, the cold slap of the water welcome on his hot skin, and grounding him in the real world. _It was only a dream…_ he reminded himself. He splashed more cold water on his wrists and face and he felt better.

He was wide awake now, and without a chance of going back to sleep, he switched his bedside light on and tried to read. He had picked up a copy of the latest John Grisham a few days ago. His mind kept wandering though, and he checked the clock. It was only half past three now. A couple hours from now it would be time for _Matins_ , the first hour of the liturgy. He was grateful to be awake though; every moment of his conscious state made the dream more distant and eventually his erection faded. 

Castiel figured he would ready himself for the day. He got into the shower, scalding himself with the hot water, as if it would cleanse the remainders of the dream away. He felt guilt for the excess he spent in water and heat, but he figured it was the least of his sins today. Once he was out of the shower, he toweled dry and then went back into the room to get dressed.

He lay his clothes out carefully. There was always a comfort in the ritual of getting dressed. Castiel put on his briefs, undershirt and socks, and then pulled on his black slacks. He slipped his clerical shirt over his arms and tugged it closed and buttoned it methodically, watching himself in the mirror. He carefully tucked the shirt into his pants, and then slid the belt through the loops. By the time he had slotted the white tab into his collar, he was feeling stronger and more confident. He ran a comb through his hair perfunctorily. The transformation was complete.

“Father Novak.” Castiel spoke to the mirror.

Father Novak would never cave to the cravings of the flesh. Father Novak would dispel the temptations of the night with a prayer. Father Novak was a priest of the church, nothing more, nothing less. A servant of God.

…

“I absolve you in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.” Castiel intoned, making the sign of the cross. “Amen.”

Castiel leaned back against the wall of the confession booth as the last parishioner exited. It seemed like there had been more confessors than usual today. He was exhausted by the litany of sins, the small discretions – occasional substance abuse, impure thoughts, and the larger ones – theft, adultery, domestic abuse. In essence, he felt like a therapist, and on the worst days he wished his parishioners would seek more secular forms of help.

Today the distractions were welcome; during his idle moments, Castiel couldn’t help thinking of the dream again. It certainly hadn’t been the first time he had such a “colorful” dream, but it had never felt this real in the past.

When he retired to his apartment, he ate a quiet dinner alone, and then settled in his armchair with his book. He couldn’t focus and instead he flipped on the TV. He managed to settle on the Food Network, finding the repetition of the cooking shows soothing. He must have dozed off at some point, waking to a rerun of _Diners, Drive-ins and Dives_. It was already a quarter past nine; Castiel usually said his evening prayers at this time. He liked to be in bed by half past nine in order to wake by five in the morning. He shut off the TV. Sometimes he liked to pray the hour of _Compline_ by candlelight. It helped him focus and clear his mind, and the flicker of the single flame calmed him. 

Castiel drew the shades to shutter out the light from the street. He picked up his candle; the heft of the antique pewter holder it sat in always soothed him. He slipped the matchbook he kept by the candle into his pocket and then switched off the lights in his small apartment. For a moment he was in near darkness, and he felt a chill, although the room was comfortably warm. He usually lit the candle before switching off the last light, but now he fumbled with the matchbook in the dark. He dropped the candle and bit back a curse as he knelt and felt around blindly for it. He felt immense relief when his hand closed around the cool metal. He struck a match quickly and lit the candle hastily.

Castiel stayed on his knees to pray. The small light danced merrily in the middle of the darkened room, casting shadows on the walls. Castiel tried to clear his mind, but he was unnerved now. He focused on the flame, taking deep breaths until finally he felt centered.

Castiel made the sign of the cross, clasped his hands and then began to speak.

“God, come to my assistance.” His voice was hushed and reverent, but still it felt too loud in the quiet dark. He wondered why he should feel any different than usual. He hesitated, feeling as if he was being watched. He swallowed the urge to turn on the light, and continued.

“Lord, make haste to help me.” Castiel continued, but the dread that had touched him earlier had returned.

“Glory to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit.” Castiel spoke louder, and clasped his hands tighter. There was a draft that threatened to snuff the candle and the disquiet in his heart grew. The windows were all shut tight.

“As it was in the beginning, is now, and will be for ever.” Castiel began again, struggling to banish his irrational fear. The candle was steady. He took a deep breath.  
  
“Amen. Allelu- ah!” Castiel gasped with fear, as a hand covered his mouth and he felt the press of a body against his back. He wanted to scream but he was paralyzed. He could feel searing hot breath against the nape of his neck, and then the brush of lips against his ear. Castiel shuddered as another hand grasped his arm firmly.

“Shhhhh….” The voice was rough and deep, and he felt the rasp of stubble against his skin. “My priest.” The hand slipped down to grasp his chin.

“Who?” Castiel blurted out. He was still unable to move; it was as if he was under a spell.

“Don’t you recognize me, Castiel?” The voice continued with a note of amusement.

And then, Castiel knew. He felt horror and dread and a thrill of desire course through him. He must be dreaming again.

“Oh, no, my priest. It’s not a dream.” The apparition replied, as if it had read his thoughts. “This is real.”

“W-what…h-how?” Castiel spoke as if in a daze. He was all too aware of the heat coming from the body that pressed against him.

“So articulate.” The hand on Castiel’s chin slipped down to his neck, and Castiel felt a tug on his collar. “My priest.” Another chuckle.

“No!” Castiel gasped, suddenly breaking out of his inertia. He unclasped his hands and twisted in his captor’s grasp, struggling with all his might to escape. He clawed at the hand on his neck, but it only clamped down tighter, making him cough and choke. The other hand gripped his arm tighter. Castiel felt panic as his air was cutoff, and his eyes started watering. All of sudden the hand on his neck relented, and Castiel gulped in air harshly.

“Shhhh.” The voice soothed. “You know what I am.”

 _Demon._ The answer echoed in Castiel’s mind.

“Very good, Father.” The demon praised.

Castiel made the sign of the cross, and the creature snorted. Castiel started to chant. “ _Exorcizo te, omnis spiritus immunde, in nomine Dei_..”

The demon laughed and Castiel faltered. He continued, his voice less certain. “ _Patris omnipotentis-_ ”

“Oh please stop!” The demon was shaking with laughter now. “Those words are nothing.”

Castiel sagged in the demon’s arms. He was trembling with fear, but also anticipation for what the demon might do next.

“Mmm.” The demon was amused. “You give in so easily.”

Castiel felt hot breath on his neck again, and then faintest press of the demon’s lips upon the nape of his neck. He jerked in the demon’s grasp as if he had been burned. The demon chuckled and Castiel felt humiliated, his whole body flushing with shameful heat.

“Just like last night.” The demon whispered hotly. “So eager.” The demon pulled against himself, sliding Castiel back onto his lap. Castiel gasped when he felt the demon’s hardness.

“Please…” Castiel said faintly. The demon’s body was so solid and warm, and he felt lost in a fog of desire.

“Please what, Father?” The demon taunted.

Castiel let out a sob as the demon ran his hands down Castiel’s body. The heat from the demon’s palms was searing through the thin layer of cloth. One hand wandered down to the front of his pants, and Castiel yelped.

“Shhhh.” The demon palmed Castiel through the fabric, and Castiel couldn’t help the moan that escaped his lips. The demon’s lips were on his neck again, and Castiel couldn’t leaning back. The demon’s breath hitched when Castiel’s pressed against him.

“Father.” The demon said thickly. “What are you doing?”

Castiel couldn’t help himself, he was pushing back and grinding himself down on the demon’s erection. He whimpered as the demon continued to caress him and cried out when he felt the wetness of the demon’s tongue on his ear.

“No…” Castiel protested weakly.

“Yes.” The demon panted.

The demon’s hands tugged on Castiel’s belt, and Castiel made no move to stop him. He groaned with relief when the demon pulled his pants open and grasped him in his hot fist.

“Oh…” Castiel moaned as the demon slid his palm up and down. His mind was clouded by lust and Castiel had no thought for the blasphemy he was committing. He only knew he wanted this more than anything. He was so close now, the way the demon was working him expertly and sucking at his neck; he could feel the demon’s hardness against his ass as he writhed in his grip.

The demon released him suddenly, and Castiel sobbed with frustration. He had been on the verge of coming, and the demon chuckled as he stood up, leaving Castiel on the floor with his disheveled clothing, his exposed cock leaking and throbbing. Castiel looked up at the demon. The light of the candle threw strange shadows behind the creature and Castiel could swear he saw the shape of horns and tattered wings. But it was the liquid black of the demon’s eyes, black that filled the space where white sclera and colored irises should have been, that made him despair and remember himself.

“O God, what have I done?” Castiel whispered. He zipped his pants up hastily and made the sign of the cross, settling on his knees to pray.

“I’m flattered, but please, call me Dean.” The demon drawled.

“ _P-pater noster, qui es in caelis_ -“ Castiel stuttered, head down, hands clasped, trying to ignore the demon.

“Oh please.” Dean scoffed. “I told you, those words mean nothing.” He put a hand on Castiel’s head and yanked on his hair so the priest was forced to look up at him.

“ _Sanctificetur nomen-_ “ Castiel tried to continue but his words were swallowed by the demon’s mouth, he tried to pull away, but the demon kissed him hard, his teeth clashing against Castiel’s own, muffling Castiel’s weak cries.

The demon pulled away, leaving Castiel breathless. “Stop pretending, Father. This is what we both want.”

“No.” Castiel said faintly. His body betrayed him, he was aching for Dean’s touch.

Dean stepped in front of Castiel again, and unzipped his pants, pulling his cock out. Castiel averted his gaze.

“Stop fighting, Father.” Dean started stroking himself, his inhuman eyes on Castiel. Castiel continued to look away. “You want it so bad, don’t you?”

“No…” Castiel shook his head.

Dean stepped closer, and Castiel looked. He bit back a moan as he watched the demon continue to stroke himself. With his free hand, Dean reached out to grab Castiel’s head, pushing it against his crotch.

“No!” Castiel gasped, turning his head in the pretense of resisting, even as he gave in to Dean. He moaned as Dean wrenched his head back and ran the tip of his cock over his lips.

“Oh Father.” Dean groaned as he pressed his cock against Castiel’s lips, which were wet with precum and saliva. Castiel moaned again, and Dean slid his cock into his mouth when his lips parted.

Castiel was still on his knees, his hands clasped, letting Dean put his hands on the back of his head and shove downward so Castiel was forced to take his cock deeper. He let the demon fuck his mouth, trying to convince himself that there was nothing else he could do. But he knew should be fighting harder; he could easily bite the demon. In truth, he had never felt more alive. The taste and the weight of the demon on his tongue was so profane, and the way Dean used him made him burn inside with shame and lust.

“Filthy, wicked priest.”  Dean praised, fucking into Castiel’s throat. Castiel choked and gagged around Dean’s thickness, his eyes streaming with tears, his jaw aching. He was past redemption now. He moaned and was gratified when the demon gasped in response.

Castiel had kept his eyes closed but now he looked up at Dean, meeting those unnaturally black eyes with his own. The demon cried out and gripped Castiel’s hair tighter. Castiel moaned again, and the demon’s pushed Castiel’s face down again. Dean stilled for a moment, and then he bucked into Castiel’s mouth, howling as he fed the priest his hot cum. Castiel automatically swallowed, the demon’s seed burning as it slid down his throat. Dean released Castiel as soon as he was finished, and Castiel collapsed. He sobbed, his throat raw and his lips swollen. And yet, his cock was even harder; any remorse and disgust he may have felt was displaced by his frustration and need for his own completion.

He felt a hand on his hair and he flinched, but when he looked up Dean was crouching in front of him.

“Something you need, Father?” Dean murmured. The demon smiled widely, his eyes reflecting the candlelight.

Castiel shook his head, and covered his face with his hands. Dean stopped him with a hand on his wrist, and Castiel felt a thrill of anticipation as the demon regarded him. The demon surged forward without warning, pushing Castiel onto his back and kissing him roughly. Castiel whimpered as Dean tasted his mouth, knowing that the demon could taste his own seed on Castiel’s tongue. The demon reached down to grasp Castiel’s throbbing cock and Castiel cried out with relief. After a few strokes, Dean released him and Castiel whined with disappointment. He quieted when he saw Dean removing his own clothing.

The demon was beautiful, his movements fluid as he undressed swiftly. Castiel caught another glimpse of shadows hinting at horns and broken wings. This time he also saw the shadow of a tail trailing from between Dean’s legs. Castiel crossed himself automatically and Dean saw and laughed. Castiel felt humiliation and shame. He had no right to make such a sacred gesture. He realized he was still wearing his ruined clericals, his collar askew and the tab coming out of the slot. He felt intense self-loathing for what he had done.

But then he noticed that Dean was fully erect again, and any thoughts for repentance disappeared, replaced with the singular desire to be used by that body. Dean smirked knowingly and then pounced on Castiel. Castiel welcomed the demon’s hot weight on his body. He spread his legs and shifted so he could press himself against Dean, rutting against the demon’s searing skin. Dean laughed with delight, and then sat back between the priest’s legs. He gripped Castiel’s legs and dragged him closer. Castiel gasped as Dean pulled one leg higher and settled it on his shoulder at the ankle and then did the same with the other leg. Castiel whimpered and Dean grinned lasciviously at Castiel. He gripped Castiel’s pants on either side and then with a violent tug, he ripped the fabric apart. Castiel sobbed as Dean grasped the edges of his briefs, his hands brushing across Castiel’s erection. Castiel whined as Dean tore his underwear away, exposing him once again.

“I know what you really want, Father.” Dean drawled.

He let his fingers trail down Castiel’s thigh to his ass. Castiel moaned when Dean used both hands to spread him open.

“I bet you’re so fucking tight.” Dean growled.

Castiel watched as Dean slid three fingers into his own mouth, and then pumped them in and out, his obsidian eyes on Castiel’s the whole time. He reached down with his wet fingers, his other hand keeping Castiel spread open. Castiel’s eyes slipped shut, his whole body tensing in anticipation of the pain. To his surprise, Dean started gently with only one finger against Castiel’s hole, and it slipped in smoothly with the demon’s saliva as lubricant. Castiel groaned as Dean worked him, pushing in a little at a time, until he was in as deep as possible. Dean started moving his finger in and out and Castiel grunted at the sensation. Castiel’s eyes flew open when he felt another finger press up against his opening, but again the demon was gentle, and Castiel relaxed a little. By the time Dean had three fingers pumping in and out, Castiel was moaning and writhing under the demon’s hands.

“Fuck.” Dean swore, and he pulled his fingers out, and Castiel whined in protest. “You’re a hungry little slut, aren’t you, Father?”

Dean grasped his cock and groaned. “I’m gonna wreck that virgin ass. There’s going to be nothing holy about you after I’m done, Father.”

Castiel could only moan helplessly. Dean sat up on his knees and Castiel’s legs slipped off his shoulders. Dean lifted Castiel’s hips so the priest bent slightly at the waist, his ass level with the demon’s cock. He repositioned Castiel’s legs so they were once again on his shoulders. Dean leaned forward slightly, bracing himself with one hand on Castiel’s thigh. He spat into his other palm and slid it over his cock. Castiel was trembling with need now, his cock painfully hard and leaking. But still Dean made him wait.

“Beg for it.” Dean demanded.

Castiel knew there was no going back after this. He couldn’t call himself a man of the cloth after this.

“Please…” He said softly.

“I couldn’t hear.” Dean prodded, pushing the head of his cock against Castiel for emphasis.

“Please…” Castiel said louder.

“Oh, you can do better than that, Father. I’ve heard you pray to your God. Beg me like you would beg him.”

Castiel was crying now. He was so far gone, he had fallen so far. “No…don’t make me..” He sobbed.

“Don’t lie to me, Father.” Dean warned. He pulled away slightly so his cock was no longer against Castiel’s ass. Castiel whimpered.

“Please…Please….Oh please…” Castiel sobbed.

“Try harder.” Dean let his fingers tease the outside of Castiel’s entrance.

“I want…Please…I need…” Castiel babbled.

“What?” Dean pushed his fingers in roughly, making Castiel cry out.

“Oh..God! Please…” Castiel pleaded, grunting as Dean started fucking him with his hand again.

“Yes?” Dean snarled, curling his fingers upwards and making Castiel buck with pleasure.

“Please, Dean. Please, fuck me. I need you.” Castiel blurted desperately, even while he keened and clenched around Dean’s fingers.

“Good enough.” Dean snapped. He pulled his hand away. Without giving Castiel a chance to catch his breath, he thrust inside.

“Ohhhh, God!” Castiel groaned, lifting his hips in an effort to take Dean deeper. Dean filled him so completely, his cock stretching him much wider than the fingers. It hurt, but it was a pain that Castiel welcomed.

“That’s what I want to hear.” Dean approved, ramming himself into Castiel over and over again.

Dean put both hands on Castiel’s hips, gripping tightly as the priest mewled and begged under him. He watched as Castiel reached for his own cock, stroking himself as Dean continued to fuck him. Castiel moaned and clenched around Dean tightly, driving the demon and himself toward orgasm quickly.

“I want you to come.” Dean commanded. “Now.”

Castiel’s eyes widened and then rolled back as he fucked up into his own fist and then screamed his release, thrashing and clenching around the demon’s cock. Dean came a moment later, while Castiel continued to rock against him, roaring and slamming himself deep into Castiel. Castiel cried out when he felt the heat of Dean’s seed deep inside, but the sensation made him pulse with even more pleasure.

When they finally quieted, Dean collapsed on top of Castiel, his hot breath puffing over the priest’s face. Castiel’s mind was blissfully blank. The candle still flickered nearby, and Castiel’s last thought before he drifted off to sleep was that it was a fire hazard.

…

His alarm went off as usual. Castiel had a moment of peace before the memories of the previous night flooded his mind with shameful clarity. It was a Sunday, Castiel realized with dread. To his surprise, he had woken in his bed, clean and dressed in pajamas. _Perhaps it was just another dream_ , he thought, but instead of relief, he felt disappointment. The soreness in his ass was real enough, but when he searched the apartment, he found no sign of the demon. He also could not find his candle and its holder. When he showered, he gingerly prodded his swollen hole, and when his hand came away with a slick that could only be from the demon’s seed, he felt desire course through him. He stroked himself in the shower, feeling ashamed of his carnal needs.

When he was ready to dress, he opened his closet, and found that one of his sets of clericals was missing. It didn’t matter, since he had spare ones, and today he would be wearing his cassock for services. Still, it was another piece of proof that Dean had been there. And what kind of name was Dean for a demon, anyhow? Azazel or Abbadon might have been more appropriate. In truth, aside from his abnormally high temperature and his liquid black eyes, Dean might have been human. In any case, Castiel had sinned, and sinned greatly.

But he had no choice but to perform Sunday Services. It was too late to call in a replacement, and he did feel a loyalty to his flock. Castiel dressed and made himself breakfast. Too late he realized he had forgotten to say _Matins_. It made him feel disproportionately repentant, although it was nothing compared to the blasphemy he had committed last night. Dressed in his cassock, he went to the adjoining vestry and tied the amice around his neck, then pulled the alb over it. He tied the cincture about his waist and then draped the green stole about his shoulders. Finally he placed the chausible over everything. He felt unworthy of these vestments, which all symbolized different aspects of purity and virtue. His reflection in the mirror betrayed nothing.

“Father Novak.” Castiel told himself, forcing a stoic expression on his face.  

…

He knew the rituals by rote, and it was easy to go through the motions, even as he felt the hypocrisy of dispensing salvation and forgiveness while he was the one who was most in need. The irony was that he had chosen the theme of “Temptation” for today’s mass. But still, he was able to meet the eyes of each grateful parishioner as they came to him to receive communion.

When the last parishioner approached him, Castiel almost lost his composure. The smile was the same, and so was the face, and body. But the eyes were green.

“T-the body of Christ.” Castiel managed to say, placing the small wafer on the tongue that he should not know so intimately.

“Amen.” Dean responded chastely, his eyes downcast.

Castiel could barely manage to perform the rest of the service, he was so shaken. He was relieved when he gave the final blessing, and the parishioners stood to leave. He watched as they filed out of the pews, but he saw no sign of Dean.

…

Afterwards, he went alone into the vestry. He started to remove his vestments when he heard a voice behind him.

“Hello Father.” Dean drawled.

Castiel whirled around. Dean was standing behind him, his eyes obsidian, a smirk on his lips. He gaped at him.

“I really, really, really enjoyed the service.” Dean growled, stepping closer. He raised a hand and Castiel flinched, but Dean only touched the corner of the chausible, feeling the fabric between his fingers.

“Please…” Castiel said faintly.

“Please indeed.” Dean nodded, smiling broadly.

Dimly, he worried about the expense of replacing the ruined vestments, as Dean ripped the delicate fabric and Castiel moaned with despair and desire. But then the demon’s mouth was on his and Castiel was lost.

He had no choice but to give in to temptation.


End file.
